You Ought To Take People Magazine To Bed

December 13, 1992|By Rochelle Distelheim.

Ginny told me about the ring when I called to ask about her last doctor`s appointment. The doctor, she said, had told her the same old thing: ``Time`s a friend. If you`re no worse, that means you`re better, you`re at a plateau. The statistics are ...`` She took a deep breath. ``... blah, blah, blah,`` she added.

Then she laughed, sort of laughed; the sound was more like a half choke. Then neither of us said anything. The silences were the hardest. ``Stop by,`` she said, finally. ``I`ve got something to show you.``

I liked the way she sounded suddenly picked-up. ``I`ll be there soon,`` I said.

``How soon?``

``An hour.``

``That`s too long to wait.``

She was lying on the sofa in the den dressed in a bright red sweatsuit, looking like all those times when our kids were babies and we`d take them to the park or out to lunch; except for her wig, which was too perfect; ash-blonde and silky, fluffed into wispy bangs that fell across her forehead, then combed back into a pageboy. When I came into the room, her hand shot up, like a nervous tic, to make sure everything was on straight.

``You look pretty good,`` I said, ``for someone who`s just had a birthday. Let`s see ....`` I made an elaborate show of counting on my fingers while mumbling under my breath: ``Thirty-five, six, seven ....``

Ginny wrinkled her nose. ``You don`t have enough fingers and toes for this one, kiddo.``

``Ever consider a facelift ... ?`` Grasping my cheeks between my thumbs and forefingers, I pulled back on the skin, hard, until I was grimacing down at her. ``... cheap?`` I finished, through stretched lips.

``What kind are you wearing?`` I sat down in the chair opposite her and took a small gold-and-red striped bag out of my purse. ``I can`t stop mine from beading.``

Ginny shrugged. ``Howard`s secretary picks it up for me. I tell him to tell her, get any brand as long as it`s medium brown and industrial strength; I can`t be choosy. It`s what Blanche said in `Streetcar,` I depend upon the kindness of strangers.`` She shifted against her pillows, searching out a comfortable spot.

``What did you want to show me?`` I asked.

``This,`` she said, and thrust her left hand at me, wiggling her fingers. ``Eat your heart out.``

She was wearing a ring with an enormous square-cut diamond in the center and three smaller diamonds on each side. I leaned forward to get a better look, taking her hand in mine, trying not to notice that her flesh was transparent, the veins visible just below the surface. She was losing weight all the time,but today she seemed shrunken rather than thin.

``Well,`` she asked, scrutinizing me, ``what do you think?``

``I think ...`` I began, my mind racing, not wanting to say what I thought. Ginny wasn`t what I`d call the diamond type, neither was I. It had to be a gift from Howard, what I`d call a never-mind-how-I-treat-y ou present, this-cost-me-plenty-so-it-has-to-mean-love. I cleared my throat.

She waggled her hand again, as though prompting me. ``I think it`s a knockout,`` I said and dropped her hand. ``I really do.`` My voice sounded hollow. ``Were you surprised?``

She blew at the center diamond, then wiped it on her sleeve. The effort seemed to wear her out. ``I knew something was up this close to my birthday. Howard`s been acting strange, like a big kid with a secret.``

``That`s sweet,`` I said, ``just like Howard.`` ``Street smart`` would be a better description of him; ``Calculating`` even more precise.

In college, which was where we`d all met, he was the one we`d go to for what I called survival information: which class was a sure A, which professors could be conned, where to buy second-hand books that were as good as new; the kind of information needed at that age when money and time were scarce. The Vietnam War had just ended; Howard and my husband, Jerry, had started school after serving in the Air Force.

The service was where he`d learned how to ask the right questions, Howard said-how to get to the right people instead of wasting time standing around in the wrong lines. ``You`ve got to look out for yourself,`` he advised, ``no one else will. Your life can depend on it.`` Then he`d wink, as though life was one big conspiracy against you, but never mind, he had it all figured out.

I was never happy with the way he always took over, like he was sucking all the oxygen out of any room he happened to be in; but he impressed Ginny with his easy confidence and those dark gimme-gimme eyes. One night after a date she came into my room and said, ``You know why I love Howard?`` I wasn`t happy to hear that she did, but I waited without saying anything. ``It`s because just by being there he makes me feel everything`s all right. I can relax; he`ll take care of me.``